


I Will Make You Believe

by Sneakyfox55



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Asgore is dead and Frisk left with his soul, Angst, Based on a Twenty One Pilots Song, But he's also not a jerk, But he's trying, Everybody kind of wants Reader's soul, F/M, Flowey is a jerk, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader is a fan of Twenty One Pilots, Reader likes plants, Sans doesn't really trust you at first, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Sometimes unintentionally, Suicidal Thoughts, Tsundere Flowey (Undertale), Verbal Abuse, mostly intentionally, papyrus is a sweetheart, reader has a nickname, reader is female, seriously Flowey what the actual h$ck, will you ever have an actual name i have no clue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-08 03:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21469618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneakyfox55/pseuds/Sneakyfox55
Summary: It's not what you asked for.For one, when you came here, you were not expecting to survive for as long as you have.Two, you don'twantto be here.And three, you don't think this is right for you. You don't think it's a good idea to stay; you shouldn't be here. Yet, here you are.It's not what you asked for, but... Maybe that will turn out to be a good thing.
Relationships: Flowey (Undertale) & Reader, Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (Undertale) & Reader
Comments: 37
Kudos: 62
Collections: My stuff, Reader Insert, Undertale





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Out Of Here (SansxReader)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21158357) by [flamingburningfandomtrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingburningfandomtrash/pseuds/flamingburningfandomtrash). 

> I noticed there aren't many Papyrus x Reader stories out there so I decided to give it a shot! Again, not really sure what I'm doing but HERE WE GO. Also this story was pretty much solely inspired by "Lovely" which is from Twenty One Pilots, and honestly TOP will be part of this story a lot @ me if you dare
> 
> ALSO also this was partially inspired by Out Of Here by flamingburningfandomtrash, please go check it out and them in general, they're awesome!
> 
> I will say this won't be a happy fic for the most part (which you can probably tell by the tags), and trust me, it'll get pretty dark, so if it's not your thing or it makes you genuinely upset then it's best you don't read.

You hadn't climbed the mountain for a happy reason, that was for certain. In reality, it probably wasn't a very logical reason either, but in the heat of the moment, you didn't want anything else.

You were done. You wanted to leave, that was all. And if anyone stopped you from doing so, then shame on them, you thought.

Unfortunately, in your state of vulnerability and mental turmoil, you decided focusing on running was more important than paying attention to your surroundings. So you didn't, and ended up tripping over a vine quite unceremoniously. You'd be more frustrated if you didn't feel so much like crying; and you were anything but emotionally stable. You were surprised you'd even managed to get this far, everything considered.

After a minute or so of being a blubbering mess you pulled yourself to your feet again and crept to the hole carefully, somehow intent on making this less sufferable than it needed to be. (Not that anything _could_ make you suffer less, you just didn't want to twist an ankle upon getting so close.)

Peering down, you estimated it was about a fifty yard drop or so. If nothing else, you'd probably break your back and fall unconscious.

If that didn't work, maybe a monster would do it for you. You could only hope.

You stepped to the edge of the hole, preparing for... Something. You weren't sure yet, that was the one thing that made you a bit nervous. Not enough to drop out on this—heh—but enough to make your skin prickle slightly.

You didn't let it deter you, of course. You took another step forward and felt yourself fall, the air whooshing beneath you.

It didn't last long. Darkness overtook your vision in a matter of seconds.

* * *

You're awake now, but you're not where you're supposed to be. At least, you don't think so, unless for some odd reason, there's golden flowers in the afterlife.

...Well, maybe, but you doubt it. Mostly because you are still feeling pain, all along your back and sides and most definitely in the area of your ribs. You had to have broken something.

The question is, how?

As in, how are you not dead?

Your head is swimming, and you feel the start of what you believe is a migraine, just to top all of it off. You might as _well_ be dead, you're feeling so lifeless. Part of you still hopes that will be the outcome, but you know it's a lost cause at this point. The flowers broke your fall, somehow; you won't be going anywhere for the time being.

Speaking of which, you think your legs are broken too. Great, now you're stuck here. (Hey, maybe if you stay here long enough...)

No, no, that wouldn't really change anything. Someone's bound to find you, if the legends mean anything. You kind of hope they'll spare you, but that's wishful thinking, and you didn't come here to be spared anyway.

As though to answer your thoughts, a voice reaches you, alarmingly close: "Howdy!"

It's one of the flowers.

One of the flowers is _speaking_ to you.

You try to scramble backwards, but only end up in a worse position, sending sparkling pain through your legs. You force back some tears and stare at the flowerbed beneath you, distantly afraid you'd already crushed the thing.

"H-hello?" you ask, in more of a whimper than anything.

There's movement, and you see it, now. This flower's bigger than all the rest, and has a face. It would creep you out if you weren't so exhausted.

“Geez, you aren’t looking too good, buddy,” it responds, its voice high-pitched in nature but seemingly male. It also sounds vaguely like a child’s voice. “Need some help?”

Truthfully, you do need help; but is it right to trust this flower? I mean, this _is_ a _flower_.

Apparently, your head decides for you as it seems to almost explode in pain. Mercifully, your vision darkens altogether, and before you know it, you’ve passed out again.

Faintly, from somewhere in your unconscious reality, you feel vines wrap around you.


	2. Flowey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ON A ROLL, ENJOY IT WHILE IT LASTS

The first thing you notice is that, even though your eyes are open, you can’t see anything.

At first, you’re alarmed. Did you somehow go blind? Are you... In a void?

Are you dead _now_?

But you can feel your arms. You lift them—or at least try to—and fumble around to feel your face. Your fingers prod at something clothlike in front of where your eyes would be.

Well, that answers that question.

As soon as you start tugging at it, though, something long and firm wraps around your hands, twisting them away roughly.

“Don’t take it off!” you hear somebody hiss. You think the voice sounds vaguely familiar, but you’re not sure. You try moving once again, only to be met with more pain. “Stop moving!” the voice snaps.

“Where am I?” you croak.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” that voice sneers, now starting to grate on your nerves. Who does this guy think he is, bossing you around?!

“Excuse me, but I think I can handle this myself, thank you,” you retort.

“Really, Miss _I Like To Throw Myself Down Holes In Mountains For The Fun Of It_?”

You freeze. You think he might be able to tell, but you really don’t care because damn it. That was insensitive, even for you.

“It wasn’t for _fun_,” you manage after a moment, your own voice tight.

He must detect the warning in your tone because he just scoffs, changing the subject. “Anyway, the point _is_, I’m trying to help you out here, idiot. You could be a little more grateful.”

...He’s helping you? Oh. That must be why you’re not completely feeling like crap anymore.

If that’s the case, then yeah, you really are an idiot.

“Sorry,” you mumble. There’s a pause.

“...Whatever,” the voice responds, bitterly. “Just go back to sleep. You can take the bandage off later.”

Fine. You could probably use the rest anyway.

* * *

This time, when you open your eyes, your world is bright again; a bit too bright, maybe, as your vision needs to adjust. When it does, you’re met with a very dark room. The colors, appearing to once be a bright shade of red, have faded, and the space seems strangely empty, even though you’ve never been here before.

You glance down and realize you’re lying on a bed. The blankets are tucked neatly over you, snug but not too tight. When you lift them to peek down at your legs—since you can barely feel them—you see they’re wrapped in casts.

There’s a slight twinge in your side when you move, but nothing too severe, so carefully, you make to stand. You know you’ll be no good just sitting here, so regardless of your immobile legs, you want to try to explore, if anything. Almost as soon as you tentatively put a delicate foot on the ground, you hear that familiar voice from before, coming from somewhere inside the room with you:

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“I’m getting up,” you say simply, not caring enough to look around and see who it is you’re talking to.

Out of nowhere, a vine snakes around your casted leg on the floor. Before you can complain you’re lifted into the air upside down, then thrown back onto the bed.

“Wh-what—” you stammer.

“_What did I TELL you_?!”

The vine retracts away from you, back towards something protruding from the ground besides the bed. You stare at the form blankly; it's a bit larger than you remember, but it’s hard to mistake.

It’s the same flower from before, the one by the flowerbed you fell onto. The _talking_ one.

“Stop. Moving.” He spits out the words like venom, a large scowl on his pale face as he glares at you. “Don’t you know how to follow directions?!”

“Why did you help me?” you shoot back at him instead. He recoils like you just tried to hit him.

“I didn’t HAVE to help you, you know!” the flower snaps, practically snarling at you. “I could’ve let you die!”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“UGH!”

You snicker halfheartedly. “Listen,” you say, “I appreciate it, bud.” You snicker again as his glare hardens. “But... Usually, when someone helps me, there’s a reason for it. Something to... Take out of it.”

At that, his expression changes to something you can’t quite read; then, just like that, he’s annoyed again. “Well, you're right about something, at least.”

“...So what do you want from me?”

He just snorts. “Figure it out.”

With that, he pops back into the ground, magically not disturbing the wooden tiles of the flooring. Grumbling, you flop back down on the bed, and study the ceiling. “The least you could do is tell me your name,” you call out after a moment.

You don’t expect to get an answer, but much to your surprise, he reappears. “Flowey,” he barks at you, before once more going into the earth.

You suppose that’s all you’re going to get, for now.


	3. A New Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flowey makes it clear what he wants with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof i'm being way too active
> 
> But honestly this will probably be the last update for this one for a few weeks, as I'll be working on the next chapter for There's Always A Tomorrow in time for Thanksgiving. Hope to see you then! And thanks for all the bookmarks/kudos/comments, I really really appreciate it!! <3 I can't iterate it enough: you guys are awesome!!!

By the next day, your body seems to have magically healed itself. Do you have the slightest clue how it happened, considering the amount of damage you took from your fall?

No. Obviously you don’t.

Somehow, that kind of makes your situation worse; you have _no_ idea how things work down here, much less how the heck you can survive for much longer. Aren’t monsters supposed to want to kill you, or something?

...Wait. Is that what this flower wants you for? You have no idea why he can’t have just killed you already, but... Maybe there’s a reason he’s “helping” you before he actually does something.

Or, maybe you’re just thinking of the worst possible scenario—which is something you’re good at it.

Well, whatever it is, you can use your legs now, more or less. So you decide to get out of bed, as soon as you make sure you won’t be yelled at again by some overgrown plant.

When you step out into the hallway, you're quick to realize you’re in a house—maybe a decades-old one, by the amount of dust gathering in the corners; and you feel that weird sensation again where the entire place is empty, like something’s missing. Granted, you don’t know what induces this feeling and what it is that’s missing, but it’s just... There. 

Eventually you lead your shaky body over to what is a living room, by the looks of it. There’s a cute little fireplace, but it’s not lit, and the air is somewhat cold on your skin. A chair sits in front of the fireplace, and to the right of that is a barren bookshelf. (Part of you wonders where the books went, strangely enough.)

Flowey, unsurprisingly, is nowhere to be seen. You choose the safest option at the moment and settle into one of three chairs, surrounding a quaint wooden table. It's comfy; almost to the point where you want to fall asleep again. And the unnatural cold in here does nothing to help that. When you glance at the other chairs, the bitter feeling of emptiness increases. You're a bit lonely.

...You're feeling very tired, suddenly. You just want to sleep. And you maybe don't want to wake up again.

Perhaps, if you will yourself to...

"Took you long enough to wake up."

You're reminded why you're not meant to rest right now.

You sit up, trying to fix your posture at least somewhat. "Hey, humans need sleep," you say with a roll of your eyes. "Not my fault flowers don't have that issue."

"Har har."

Somehow, he's managed to pop up through one of the other chairs. You don't know if it's because you're fatigued or what, but you don't question it.

Magic's a thing down here, right?

"I was beginning to wonder if you abandoned me," you go on, pretending you don't feel as awful as you do. Flowey chuckles, a weird, echo-y sort of sound that vibrates through your chest a little. You involuntarily shiver.

"You wish," he sneers, and you're reminded of the fact that you're not exactly face-to-face with the best guy in the world right now. Two reminders of not-so-great things in a row, lucky you.

"Are we just going sit here and chat, or...?"

"Of course not!" Flowey hisses. "I..." He hesitates, an action you're kind of not expecting from him. "Remember how I need you for something?"

"Yes, I remember that clearly," you tell him with a good chunk of sarcasm, because literally _why else would he be helping you?_

"You're coming with me to see the queen," the flower declares quickly, and suddenly you're not feeling so snarky anymore.

Your mouth hangs open for a moment as you try to comprehend this. "...You mean," you say, slowly, "_the_ queen? Queen Toriel?"

"Well, what other queen is there?!"

You make a weird gesture with your hands, jaw clenching and un-clenching itself in your haste to think up words. “But I don't—why would she want to see _me_? Why do you want to _bring me_, I can't do anything useful! I shouldn't even be—"

You cut yourself off hurriedly, biting your tongue in the process.

"You shouldn't be what?" he inquires, narrowing his little black eyes at you.

"...I shouldn't be here." 

Boy, isn't that an understatement?

"Why do you want to bring me to the queen anyway?" you ask, your irritability returning.

The flower blinks at you; then, his scowl returns. "You're the first human to come here in a long time. She wants to meet you."

"She wants to meet _me_?"

"Did you not just hear what I said?!"

You point at yourself, glaring slightly, "Uh, haven't you noticed I'm a human? Don't you guys kill humans or something?"

Suddenly, Flowey smirks at you, looking slightly proud of himself as he takes in your bewildered form.

Well, at least one of you appreciates how dumb you are.

"Not anymore," he replies. "The queen herself is the one that instated that rule; no more humans are to be killed. Now," he says sweetly, "are we going to fight about this or are you coming with me?"

Ugh...

Fighting isn't going to solve anything, you know that much. And if the queen really does want to see you, for whatever silly reason, then who are you to disobey her orders? (I mean, if he is telling the truth; which you mostly think he is. Even if he isn't...)

Either way, if you'e given something to do, then maybe that can be a good thing.

Maybe you can prove yourself useful after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just for the record, I forgot to make it clear that in this AU, since Frisk was able to take Asgore's soul, Flowey never destroyed it obviously; he also never absorbed the other six souls, as Frisk pretty much prevented him from doing that (how will be explained in a later chapter maybe).
> 
> Toriel still reinstates the rule that all humans will be shown mercy/not killed, but they still have the seven souls locked away somewhere. (She never uses them, for chance of causing more damage than her ex-husband did.) However, a few not-so-friendly monsters are going to want Reader's soul, despite this.
> 
> It's like a very weird (and non-human-eating) version of Horrortale except Undyne never kicked her out? Everyone respects Toriel but at the same time they don't, if that makes sense lol.


	4. State of Being, State of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you can't keep it in anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> being active with stories is tiring lol
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: Mental breakdown, heavily implied depression and suicidal thoughts, and instances of self-hatred/low self-esteem. Read only if these don't bother you.

Okay so, somehow, you’ve monumentally screwed up. (Shocking, you know.) You, out of all things you could have done here, have misplaced your phone.

Awesome. Really _awesome_, because now, you don’t even have your usual playlists to listen to; and you _really_ needed those playlists. You still do. You were never one to use a phone in of itself, but it was the only source of music you had.

The one time you actually could use your phone, it’s vanished into thin air. You don’t even have a source of communication, if you need it. Yeah, awesome.

The worst part of it is you somehow know Flowey has something to do with it. You remember having it with you after your fall a few days ago, and he pretends he hasn’t seen such a device but _you know_. He’s playing dumb, the little weed he is, and you don’t know why. You’re ticked.

Oh, on top of all this, said weed decides today will be the day you head out of the Ruins (that’s what he called them, anyway). Okay, you’re a little more than ticked. You were never one to get easily offended or angry before, but something about Flowey makes you seethe. You’re also not in a very healthy mindset right now—_considering how you got here_—so his insults are definitely no help to you, either. You think you’re warranted with your current distaste towards him.

And, you don’t mention it, but you really don’t want to meet more people right now. After failing your previous plans and ending up trapped under a mountain, _without_ your phone, facing others is the last thing you wish to do.

You have a feeling Flowey won’t care. You keep silent.

You know it’s only a matter of time, though, at this point.

* * *

“For the _last time_,” Flowey growls at you, “and be SERIOUS! _Do you have everything you need_?”

“No.”

“WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE MISSING, WOMAN?!”

You would have laughed, if you weren’t feeling so ugly inside right now. “I already told you, I want my phone back,” you respond as calmly as you can.

“And _I_ already told you I DON’T have it!” he practically screeches, his petals flaring up in a way that reminds you of a raptor or something.

“Okay. I’ll check in the bedroom again if it makes you happy.” You know it won’t, but you’re really trying to play it cool here. You can’t let this control you. You’re (supposed to be) stronger than this. 

“Go, then!”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat and head for the old bedroom you’ve been using for a few days. It still feels unnaturally empty, the only objects in the area being a bed and an empty toy chest. As you offered, you search everywhere for your missing phone, and, of course, come up with nothing.

You breathe in and out shakily, vainly hoping it’s just leftover dust suffocating you. You don’t want to lose it right now. It’d be over something so trivial, too. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself. And yet, you don’t have the ability to avoid that, apparently. Your hands are already shaking, and you feel worse the more you ponder your situation.

This is stupid. Every part of this is stupid. You’re not supposed to go with this guy. You weren’t supposed to lose your phone, or be aware that you _did_ loose it. You’re not supposed to _be here_.

Why are you deciding to stay, now? What do you have to gain from this? You lost your chance a long, long time ago. You _chose_ to loose it, it was a decision _you made_. And now you’re trying to go back on that, in an attempt to rewrite your fate? You’re not useful to anyone, that was made clear to you! Why are you pretending you’d be given a second chance _now_? Why are you hoping to prove yourself, when there’s nothing to prove?

Why didn’t you let yourself go? Why _don’t_ you? Stars, you’re such an idiot. There’s no point to this.

...How could you ever have begun to think there was?

“Uh... Human?”

Great. Look what you’ve done. You did indeed draw attention to yourself.

“Is something wrong?” Yes, but it’s not like he’ll care, now will he?

You vaguely realize you’re sitting on the floor, one hand clamped tight around your other arm, squeezing like somehow that can make up for everything. You want to do worse. You want...

“What are you doing?” Flowey asks, almost tentatively. Now you’re scaring him away with your weird meltdown, just like everyone else, just like—

“P-please don’t,” you choke out. You’re not sure what you mean, exactly. Either way, you’re not prepared when he appears out of the floor in front of you, a weird expression on his pale yellow face.

“What’s going on.” He says it like a statement, not a question; like you’re meant to answer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you snap back, somehow proud of yourself for throwing his own words back at him. Gee, childish, much?

Surprisingly, he doesn’t retort back. He merely stares back at you with that unreadable, odd expression. “Listen,” he tells you, not unkindly, for some reason. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but you need to stop.”

Is he kidding? “That’s easy for you to say,” you say with a chuckle, which comes out as more of a sob, really. “You’re not the one who climbed a freakin’ mountain to rid yourself of the world.”

Flowey scowls at you. “Stop it. You’re not helping yourself.”

“I don’t _want_ to help myself.”

“Fine. Give me your arm.”

“What?” You nearly laugh. “Why?”

“Just give me your arm!”

“You going to kill me yourself? I’d be okay with that.”

“Shut it,” he hisses. “Give me your arm.”

“...Fine.” You reluctantly move your own threatening hand away and offer the sore arm out to the flower. He immediately wraps one of his vines around it and yanks you to your feet, causing you to let out a mix of a whimper and a yelp.

“Wh-hat—” you start, stumbling over your words as your breath hitches.

“We’re _going_ to leave this place and you’re _going_ to quit doing this to yourself. Got it?”

“W-why! I-I’m just a freak, y-you don’t even know what you’re dealing w—”

“Yes, I _do_ know what I’m dealing with.” He tugs you toward him, giving you a glare. “And sitting here obsessing over it isn’t going to help you, take it from me.”

“How could you—”

“I knew someone like you, alright?! That’s how I know! Now stop asking dumb questions!”

...Okay. That wasn’t quite what you were expecting. “You know someone like me? Who—”

“_Knew_. Past tense.”

“Oh.”

“Come on.” He pauses, then lets go of you. “It won’t take us that long to get to Snowdin.”

While wiping your eyes, you raise a brow. “To what?”

“Snowdin. That’s our first stop. There’s some people who can help us there.”

Ah yes, people. Like before, that’s totally what you want to do right now: meet new people.

...Maybe it won’t be too bad, though. Maybe, they will be nice.

Just maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah i hope it's not too clunky  
I'm bad at writing mental illness, but anyway
> 
> Kind of unrelated, but I just want to say I love you guys so much, thanks for all the support on all of my stories! Have a wonderful day and most importantly, take care of yourself. <3


	5. Snowy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go to Snowdin and meet Sans and Papyrus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more comedy went into this one than was necessary  
don't worry we'll get back to angst soon >:)

Flowey has decided his best means of transportation is a flower pot. No, really, that's his plan. And you have to carry him all that way. Lucky you.

You just go along with it, because why not? The worst that can happen is you drop him, or something. He might be angry with you but you have a feeling that, regardless of what his plan is here, he won’t kill you. Not yet. You can’t begin to imagine why, but you’re also past the point of questioning him; he won’t give you answers and the most you _would_ get out of him is an insult. You really don’t want to bother.

Apparently, the basement in this house leads to the exit of the Ruins. He pretty much just tells you to go through a door, go down some hallways, and go through another door. Simple enough; even if you’re slightly apprehensive at finding out what’s on the other side of said door. Flowey assures you, though, by saying he’s the scariest thing you’ll meet down here.

And exactly _how_ is that supposed to make you feel better?

Anyway, as instructed, you trudge through a very, very long hallway after the door in the basement and end up in a room with a patch of grass. It reminds you of the room you fell into. You try not to linger for too long and shove the second door open, this one much heavier than the first. As soon as you step out the doorway, you’re hit with a rush of freezing air, so you instinctively swivel to head back inside the Ruins to escape the cold; only to realize the door has shut on you.

Panic immediately rises in your chest, and the chill that you breathe in does little to help.

“Hey, hey, keep moving!” Flowey wraps a vine around one of your wrists, his eyes glaring at you. “The less time we spend out here, the better!”

“B-but the door—”

“So what?! Let’s get going, human!”

You force your anxiety down, breathing in and out shakily. As though Heaven itself has decided to spare you, you’re good enough to start moving again, though you stumble a bit through the heavy snow around you. “By the way,” you grumble to the flower you’re carrying, “it’d be nice if you at least didn’t call me ‘human’ all the time. It sounds derogatory.”

Flowey huffs. “Maybe if you gave me an actual name, I wouldn’t—”

“Ivy.”

“...What?”

“You can call me Ivy,” you say.

“...That’s gotta be a nickname.” He squints at you. “Don’t tell me that’s your real name.”

“Yes, it’s a nickname.”

“Then what’s your real name?” he asks impatiently.

You merely shake your head, your hair flopping into your face. The wind blows it away before you can do it yourself. “Doesn’t matter. People stopped calling me by my real name a long time ago. Didn’t care enough, I guess.”

“Wow," he sniffs. "Sob story, kid. Don’t expect me to cry for you, though.”

You giggle slightly; maybe it’s just a bit forced.

“How’d you get that nickname?” You’re surprised to find he sounds curious now, for some reason. Maybe he’s not so much a jerk after all? Maybe he _is_ actually interested in what you have to say.

“I like plants,” you respond, simply. He blinks up at you, then scowls.

“Well clearly, you have something against _me_,” he retorts, and it’s almost funny. Almost. “How does that add up?”

“Maybe I’d like you if you weren’t such a weed,” you offer, giving him a small, yet cheeky smile. “Y’know, just a suggestion.”

He hisses, vines releasing from your wrist (which he hadn’t moved yet) and scraping against them roughly, making you yelp. “You wish!” he spits at you.

Okay, no, he’s still a jerk.

And, just then, you hear a twig snap. You let out a squeak once more, and Flowey rolls his beady eyes at you.

“Ugh, quit being such a wimp. It’s probably nothing.”

_That’s easy for you to say!_ you think angrily, reluctantly pressing on as you keep a hardened stare on the path ahead of you. Your eyes dart to the trees faster than before, and you can swear you hear some footsteps at some point. You whirl around, holding Floweypot high in the air, just in case you have to chuck it at—

“What are you doing?! Put me down!” the pot screeches and, oh yeah, Flowey’s in there. Unfortunately, he’s a living being. You’d rather not kill anybody if you can help it.

“Sorry. I... Sorry.”

“Whatever. Just cross that bridge, for Asgore’s sake!”

“...Asgore? Who’s that?”

“JUST DO IT!”

You snort indignantly, but regardless, continue to the bridge now in sight. You haven’t even gone a few yards when you hear those weird footsteps behind you again. Merely frustrated by your stalker at this point, you shuffle around to face... Whoever it is. Or whatever, depending on where you are.

Aaand, you’re just as exasperated to find it’s nothing but a shadow, so you can’t even see its face. Is that intentional? Is it magic? _Are_ they an actual shadow? How would that even work??

“H u m a n,“ is all the figure utters. Well then. Guess we’re still going by _human_. “D o n ‘ t y o u—”

“STUFF IT SMILEY TRASHBAG, NOBODY CARES!”

There goes the shadow. It wasn’t a part of his being after all. (So what in the freak was it?!) Also, he’s a skeleton. A living, breathing skeleton.

The joys of being made of magic, you suppose.

You turn your gaze to Flowey now, who’s staring up at the skeleton—Smiley Trashbag?? What???—with a look that screams _I hate your guts_. Then, he snarls, “We’re way past that, remember? Nobody cares about seeing humans anymore!”

“i know that.” The skeleton’s voice is deep, but calm, and collected; even so, you get the sense you don’t want to mess with him.

“Tch, clearly. Remind me when you decide to start living in our _current_ timeline.”

Before you can ask what that means, he tugs on your arm with another vine of his, and you grumble a couple complaints before obeying his wishes and walking across the bridge.

You glance back to see if the skeleton’s still there, but he’s vanished.

* * *

Despite Flowey’s evident fury, the skeleton from before continuously follows you two, and at one point falls in step beside you, obviously intending to talk. You just kind of let him lead the conversation.

“what’s your name?” is, naturally, the first question he asks, his eye-lights staring at you a bit intensely. You feel a little uncomfortable.

“I just go by Ivy.” Flowey snickers so you shoot him a glare. “Um... Who are you?”

“sans.” He watches you, almost carefully. “what’s he doing with you?” he adds, directing his attention to Flowey.

You kind of knew that question would come eventually. At least you sort of prepared yourself for it, maybe. “He, um... Kind of saved my life, I guess. I was pretty banged up after I fell.” You put emphasis on _fell, _unintentionally. You really hope he doesn’t notice.

“huh,” Sans hums, glancing down at the flower again, his gaze hard. You wonder what kind of beef they have between each other, but you decide not to ask. It’s none of your business.

Suddenly, you freeze up again. Sans sees this but doesn’t seemed deterred. “relax,” he assures, following your gaze. “’s just my bro. he’s not going to hurt you.”

What, that giant, lanky skeleton marching towards the three of you? Ah yes, you, of all people, are supposed to relax with _that _happening.

“SANS!!” Oh boy, is his voice loud. “I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO STAY AT YOUR STATION UNTIL I CAME FOR YOU!”

You know his stern expression isn’t directed at you, but you shrink back anyway, clutching Flowey tightly. This only seems to drive his attention to you, the irritation seeming to evaporate from him as he looks at you. “OH, HELLO!! I APOLOGIZE FOR NOT SEEING YOU THERE, MY BROTHER CAN BE QUITE A NUISANCE! WHO ARE YOU?”

“U-um...”

“this is ivy. she’s a human,” Sans announces.

Suddenly, you kind of understand Flowey’s bitterness towards this guy. But the other skeleton doesn’t seem phased by gaining this information, for some reason.

“IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU, HUMAN IVY!! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!!”

As he strikes an elegant pose, Flowey hisses in your ear, “Just use Papyrus.” You smile halfheartedly.

“Well, uh... It’s nice to meet you too, Papyrus. But we should be heading on our way.” Flowey shoots you a look, obviously surprised that this time, you’re the one trying to get out of this situation. You really don’t care, honestly. You’re freezing by this point, and you want to get to somewhere warm.

Still, a somewhat pleased expression crosses the flower’s face. “Right,” he says slowly, like he doesn’t quite believe you just yet. “We need to get to Snowdin Town, so if you’ll excuse—”

“YOU’RE GOING TO SNOWDIN TOWN?”

Flowey’s face twists into another scowl. “Yes, so if you don’t _mind_, Papyrus—”

“y’know, we live in snowdin,” Sans cuts in, directing his words at you. “we could show you ‘round.”

...Sigh. Sure, why not.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Oh, never mind then. “We don’t need babysitters, thank you very much!” snaps Flowey.

Papyrus’s face falls, but you don’t have much time to react as Flowey’s gripping you again, painfully enough for you to shoot him a glare. As you pass by the skeleton brothers, you glance back apologetically, as though you owe them something.

“That was pretty rude, Flowey,” you say as the two of you come across another sentry station, following the one near the bridge. This one's empty, aside from the fact that when you peek in said station, you see some dog treats inside. (You wonder what _that’s_ about.)

“We don’t have time to mess with those idiots,” he grumbles in response, sinking slightly into the pot’s dirt.

Something suddenly occurs to you. “Are they the ones you said could help us? You seem to know them.”

His eyes narrow, and he’s clearly reluctant to give you any sort of answer. You’re a bit shocked when he tells you moodily, “They can be useful, when they want to be.” That doesn’t really have to do with _anything _you asked him, but okay.

Either way, you have a feeling you’ll be seeing those two again some time soon.


	6. Returned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You settle into Snowdin, sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is so late, I had a hard time figuring out what i wanted to include here
> 
> I hope it suffices anyway, haha

Before you know it, you’ve made it to the town, presumably Snowdin as Flowey has mentioned. This confirms, as a sign comes into view, boring the phrase “Welcome to Snowdin Town!” From what you can see, it’s very Christmas-y, with lights strewn everywhere, and people milling about, and—

...Wait. A town. People. Eyes, eyes that could move to _you_.

Why didn’t you think of this before?

Why didn’t you consider—

“Human? Why did you stop?”

No. No, it’s okay. If you don’t say anything, it’ll be fine. Everything’s fine.

Even so, you pull your sleeves further down your arms, just slightly. You face Flowey with a smile, assuring him, “Sorry, kind of blanked out there.”

He frowns deeply, but turns away, grumbling something under his breath. You huff in amusement and continue forward, purposely keeping your eyes focused on the ground and only looking up to make sure you’re maneuvering correctly.

* * *

“That will be ninety G,” the nice rabbit lady says to you. You freak out for a total of two seconds before Flowey throws some coins up onto the counter.

“Here,” he practically spits out, _very_ rudely might you add, before gesturing towards you to climb up the stairs to the upper floor. You give the bunny monster a quick, grateful smile and thank her quietly—because clearly Flowey _won’t_—then trod up the steps a bit clumsily.

“You _seriously_ need to work on your social skills,” you mutter to him as you twist the key into the lock; once it clicks, you push open the door with your shoulder, entering the bedroom swiftly.

“Excuse me? You just _froze up _back there!” the flower retorts snottily.

“At least I have the dignity to not be a jerk.”

“Well, at least I’M not some confused human who can’t even _function_ properly!”

You drop him on the bed, less than carefully, and stare at him with your mouth ajar. “What?”

“You heard me!”

Snorting, you throw the keys on the mattress as well, and snap, “Thanks, that’s exactly what I needed from you, of all things.”

“Wh—”

“Would it _hurt_ you to be nice? Just for once?”

Flowey sniffs, unapologetic. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You gape at him still; then, your lips curve downwards, face contorting into a deep scowl. “You’re lucky I’m actively dumb,” you growl, “otherwise I’d have left you, like any normal person would.”

The flower scoffs, but says nothing more, so you decide to drop it as well. Glancing at him briefly, you walk back over to the door.

“Where are you going?” he inquires.

“Out. Clearly you don’t want me here.”

“Oh come on, you’re being—”

You shut the door behind you before he can finish and head down the stairs.

As soon as the cold hits you, you wish you were back inside the inn; but, of course, that would mean being the same room with Flowey, and right now, you don’t really want that. You think you’re kind of a coward, and probably foolish, though in this moment, you don’t care. You want to be alone, honestly.

And it definitely doesn’t help that you can feel almost everyone in the town’s gaze on you. It... Makes you uneasy. Like you’re being violated, somehow. Do they know you’re a human? Do they hate you, because of that?

If they do, then what’s the point, really?

Suddenly a bit nauseous, you come to a stop at the river, and look out over the water silently. You observe the floating ice cubes on its surface for about a minute before sitting down in the snow, not exactly paying attention to the freeze in your legs upon doing so.

Maybe... You still have a chance to get out of here. Maybe you can find another way. Maybe...

“UM... HUMAN IVY, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

You shoot to your feet like a rocket, only to stumble and just manage to not fall behind you into the icy river. Once you right yourself you meet his gaze as he’s clearly tensing, likely expecting you to lose your balance again.

“Fine,” you respond finally. He continues staring at you blankly, and you realize you kind of gave him no context. “I mean... I’m fine.”

“...OKAY.” He looks like he doesn’t quite believe you, and to be honest, you probably wouldn’t believe yourself, either. Quickly, though, he puts on a smile. “ANYWAY! I JUST THOUGHT I’D CHECK ON YOU, AS YOU ARE RATHER LOST.”

“Uh... Thanks?” you respond uncertainly. “I’m not really... Lost, though. I know how to get back.”

“...IF YOU SAY SO!”

You stare back at him. His expression doesn’t change.

“Well, I... I’ll just get going,” you say slowly.

“OH! YOU’RE STAYING AT THE INN, RIGHT?”

“Yeah.”

His eye-sockets somehow brighten. “WELL, I CAN TAKE YOU BACK THERE!! I MEAN, I’M CERTAIN YOU KNOW THE WAY, BUT AS YOU ARE A HUMAN AND THEREFORE UNACCOSTOMED TO THIS WEATHER YOU WOULD BE BETTER OFF HAVING ME GUIDE YOU SO YOU DON’T FREEZE!”

“...Sure?” Obviously he wants to, for some reason; probably because you’re new and someone to talk to. You suppose you can work with that. He seems nice enough.

Somewhat tentatively, you trail behind the skeleton as he leads the way, stuffing your cold hands into your jeans. As promised, he stops in front of Snowed Inn.

“Thank you,” you tell him. “I’ll be fine from here.”

“NO PROBLEM! OH, AND TELL FLOWERY I SAID HI!!”

“...Who?”

But he has already run off. Only then do you realize he means Flowey, which causes you to laugh.

Upon reaching the door to your room, you realize with a jolt you left the keys inside. You panic, nervously fiddling with the handle, and let out a large sigh of relief when it swings inwards; however, when you enter, you’re greeted with silence.

“Stupid weed left the door unlocked,” you grumble to yourself after looking around, seeing such flower is nowhere in sight.

As you approach the bed, you notice two things: one, the pot is still there, but it’s empty. You’re about to question those physics when you see the other item on the bed, next to your keys.

It’s your phone. And it seems perfectly unharmed, almost... Brand new.

...Huh.

You think Flowey has some explaining to do.


	7. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a little upset.
> 
> But mostly terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry
> 
> Warnings: Child abuse, suicidal thoughts/thoughts of self-harm and self-hatred

It’s the first song you put on the playlist, and the first song you heard. Not just from them, in general. But the first thing you heard after that night.

You had come home from school, already on the verge of tears, not even mentioning what you knew would come next. You tried preparing yourself for the worst, but...

It wasn’t enough.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath from several yards away. You knew it was a routine of sorts, but it still hurt to know it.

You set your backpack down by the door, and barely managed to keep yourself from making a beeline to the stairs; but his drunken voice made you halt.

_What’d _ _you get?_

You almost didn’t walk back, fear trapping you in place. But the more careful side of you reasoned it would be potentially worse if you didn’t obey, so reluctantly, like your movements were mechanical, you trudged again to your backpack. You zipped it open with shaky hands, and pulled out the card.

You jumped upon realizing he was already behind you; but you ignored your anxiety, turned, and held it out to him, still trembling for all you were worth.

(He probably noticed. You wanted to care, but you couldn’t.)

And he read your grades out loud. Mostly B’s and a few C’s, not too bad. Then he settled on the last.

A D-. Just a mere percentage away from being an F.

Hell, might as well have been.

Your breathing started getting more ragged, as a new light came into your father’s eyes.

You don’t remember much after that; just that your face really stung. And your arm. He might’ve grabbed you. You’re not entirely sure.

But you remember his words.

_You’re a failure._

_You’re a disgrace._

_I hate you._

_Why can’t you just be more like your brother? Why are you so stupid?_

_Why do you have to do this to me?_

_No wonder your mom left._

_I’m sure she hated you too._

You almost redirected your route to the bathroom, after getting yelled at. But you were tired. You just wanted to sleep. Even pain seemed like a bother to you right then.

But even as you lay on your bed, the covers over your entire body like your own personal cave, you couldn’t seem to get your mind to settle. You thought of getting up. Calling it quits on rest.

The bathroom was still there. Just a few feet away from your bedroom.

It was still an option.

And the more you really thought about it, the better it sounded to you. The more you considered your father’s words; the more you believed them.

The more you wanted it to _end_, because it hurt, and because you were a _failure_.

But instead, you pick up your phone. Music sometimes helped. Rarely, but sometimes.

<strike>And while _that_ helped, almost always, you didn’t feel like dealing with the mess just then.</strike>

Music was simpler. Easier to deal with, in the end.

You opened YouTube. You’d never listened to Twenty One Pilots. You wanted to, though. Mostly out of curiosity.

And the first song you heard was Truce.

Since then, it’s always helped you, even on your worst days.

So it’s the first song on your playlist.

You pick up your phone from the bed, and breathe an almost crippling sigh of relief when you find everything is the same. Particularly the playlist.

So you start listening to it now, just to calm yourself down, because when Flowey comes back you _know _something’s going to go south real fast.

* * *

A few minutes later, he pops up out of the floor, making you jump. You quickly pause your music (which you’d kept playing even after the first song ended) and gather your courage, before putting your phone back on the bed.

He sees you do so—and you’re not sure how, but somehow, his face turns even paler.

“Why’d you take my phone?” you ask coolly, sounding _way_ more calm and collected than you would ever give yourself credit for.

“Wh-what makes you think I took it?” He narrows his eyes at you, trying to look confident, but you heard it. He stuttered.

“Let’s see.” You click your tongue, anger beginning to swell in your gut, and making your forwardness grow. “I came back to find my phone and it just so happens to be in the hotel room only _you_, other than me, could know about? And, I mean,” you shrug almost nonchalantly, “considering you have the key, it’d be quite impressive if somebody else got in here.”

“I left it unlocked, anyone could have—”

“But my phone’s been missing since The Ruins!” you snap.

Instantly, the flower goes quiet, looking a bit startled by your outburst. You twist your hands slightly before continuing. “Maybe I’m just dense, I don’t know—but who could have _possibly_ gotten close enough to me to take my phone? Need I remind you that for most of our time in said Ruins, I was passed out from my injuries, so honestly, I’m not even entirely sure you were actually taking care of me or if it was somebody else.”

“No one else helped!” snarled Flowey. “No one else _knew_ about you! Do you think I’d be caught _dead_ trying to keep a human alive?”

Before he could further his argument, you quickly cut in with finality, “So therefore you’re the only one who could have taken my phone.”

Looking furious, he tries, “I—”

“Stop. I don’t even care anymore.”

“But I—” He growls out a curse before going on to hiss, “I _did_ steal your phone but that’s not the point!”

“Okay, why?” You patiently look at him, even though your heart’s about ready to beat right out of your chest.

“BECAUSE I WANTED TO KILL YOU!”

...

...What?

He stares back at you, looking about as angered as you probably felt before. “Why else do you think I wanted to take you to the queen?” he goes on snidely. “I wanted your soul!”

Your eyes begin stinging. “But you said the queen—”

“Oh, please,” he laughs darkly, “I _know_ she’d never be okay with that, which was why I was going to kill you _before_ going to her. She couldn’t do anything if you were already dead; and if she didn’t agree with my plans, I could do away with her too, and absorb _all_ of the souls.”

“But I—” The stinging gets worse, and a lump forms in your throat. Your breathing starts getting ragged. “I thought you were just...”

“I wasn’t! I had it planned from the beginning!” He laughs again, this time less controlled; almost giddy, in nature. “I took your phone just to spite you! I got you to trust me! It was _foolproof_!”

“I don’t...” You choke. With shaky hands, you stuff your phone into your pocket, and rise to your feet. “I-I can’t believe I trusted you. Y-you’re... You’re horrible.”

“And you’re an idiot for believing me.” He grins at you, but your vision is too blurred for you to see the way it wavers.

Idiot.

You’re an idiot.

_You’re such an idiot._

_A disgrace._

_How could you be so stupid?_

_Failure._

_No wonder he hates you._

You stumble to the door, twisting the knob before you can collapse against the door, and almost falling onto the carpet outside in the process. You barely manage to regain your balance before practically tripping your way down the stairs, a sob about to bubble out of your throat as your fear and utter horror rises like a burning flame inside you.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

_You’re such a failure._


	8. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get a bit of help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SKELEBROS

Sans isn’t sure what to make of you.

For starters, you’re a human; and he doesn’t necessarily _hate_ humans, but his history with them is very... Complicated.

And you’re also trusting that weed.

He has no idea why, and if you had _any_ ounce of sanity, you wouldn’t—

...That’s not being fair.

He might just be using you. He probably is.

You probably don’t even really know what he’s done.

But that still makes you naïve. And clueless.

Sans tends to have a problem with clueless people.

So he observes you, from a distance. He tries not to get involved, despite Papyrus wanting to help you.

...Then he sees you run out of the inn.

* * *

You’re... Not entirely sure what you’re doing right now. Your eyes are blurred, and your head is foggy.

You just want to get out of here. You don’t care where you end up.

You don’t care that you’re heading for the river.

Maybe it’s a good thing if you...

Your feet suddenly lose ground, and you’re falling. You hear a shout right before you hit the freezing water, plunging beneath the surface, darkness clouding your vision.

You struggle for a second or two, but your limbs feel too weak to continue, so you stop moving. You stop trying to breathe, ignoring the way your nose and chest burns.

And you’re suddenly lifted out, air finding its way back to your lungs, and you hit the snow hard. You splutter, coughing up water you didn’t know had entered your body, and your hair dangles in front of your face, blocking you from understanding what just happened.

“...you okay?”

You clear your hair out of your face, turning to see whoever had rescued you, and you blink in confusion.

“Wh-what—?”

Before you can react, Sans wraps his hoodie around your shoulders, warming you up if only slightly. “sorry, should’ve gotten you out sooner. didn’t know you were gonna do that.”

“D-do what?” you ask, still shivering.

“uh... you ran into the river?”

...You did?

Oh.

Sans stares a bit longer at you, as though trying to figure you out; then he seems to shake it off, and says, “never mind. we gotta get you inside. uh... close your eyes.”

Not quite processing yet, you just do as you're told. You feel his hand rest on your shoulder briefly, and when you open your eyes, you’re suddenly...

In a house?

“stay here, i’ll be right back,” Sans tells you while you glance at your surroundings, and by the time you try to look at him again, he’s gone.

You take a moment to glance around some more, and find you’re now sitting on a couch. It’s pretty lumpy, but comfortable enough. And warm.

Warm is nice.

Without warning, something else is thrown over you, covering your face briefly. You pull it off to see Sans standing there again, wincing slightly.

“sorry, kid.” He adjusts the covering—a blanket—around you, and despite how you're feeling you give him a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“don’t mention it.”

You pull the blanket further around yourself, avoiding his gaze, feeling awkward. He rubs the back of his neck.

“so, uh... just make yourself at home, i guess. my bro will be back soon to fix ya something to eat.”

You nod, slowly, and he leaves once more. Tentatively, you lie down on the couch, and despite its foreignness, you drift off to sleep rather quickly.

* * *

A few minutes later—at least, it seems—you’re gently shaken awake, but you jolt up on the seat suddenly, making whoever it was startle.

“relax, kid! ‘s just me,” Sans assures you, giving you a lax smile. The tenseness in your shoulder fades a little, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Sorry.”

“’s fine. Pap just wanted me to wake you.” He pauses. “do you like spaghetti?”

...What? “What?” you repeat aloud.

“it’s, uh, the only thing he knows how to make.”

“Oh.”

You hesitate.

“Um... It’s good, I guess? I mean, I like it.”

For some reason, his expression morphs into something more relieved. “great, i’ll be right back. again.”

You see him walk into a room that you assume is the kitchen, based on the title pattern; you overhear his soft voice talking to someone, and another louder, familiar voice responds.

A moment later, Papyrus appears, and darts over to you with a bright grin. “HUMAN IVY!! IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN!”

You force a smile. “Um, thank you. It’s... Good to see you again, too.”

His eye-sockets brighten, so you probably said the right thing—maybe. “I AM ALSO GLAD TO SEE YOU ARE ALRIGHT! SANS TOLD ME YOU FELL INTO THE RIVER. IS THAT TRUE?”

Your smile falters, as a rise of panic suddenly fills you.

“I-I... I didn’t mean to, I was just—”

You purposely _ran_ into the river.

_You didn’t care._

_You’d let it happen._

What would he think of that?

What would he think of _you_?

He’d probably call you a mess.

Because you _are_ a mess.

You _i__diot._

“OH—I’M SO SORRY!!”

Huh?

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO MAKE YOU CRY! I...” He reaches forward, as though to comfort you, but you pull back, looking at him apologetically as you wipe your eyes.

“No, no, it’s fine! You didn’t make me cry,” you laugh, nervously, if anything, “I’m just...” _Sick in the head. _“Not thinking straight right now. I’m sorry.”

He frowns at you. You continue smiling, trying to prove you’re okay.

“...OKAY. WELL...” He wrung his hands. “MAYBE... YOU’RE JUST HUNGRY. IF YOU EAT, YOU’LL FEEL BETTER.” He looks at you hopefully. “RIGHT?”

You nod, a bit too quickly, but he seems to buy it, and you breathe out another sigh of relief as he runs back to the kitchen. You wrap the blanket around you once more, not as anxious.

This is... Good.

You don’t feel much better, after everything that’s happened, but...

But you don’t feel cold anymore.


	9. Bad Liars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people have more secrets than you'd imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for going quiet in updates all of a sudden? i swear i didn't forget about writing or anything, it's just been a busy, kind of rough week for me, so for the most part i've been dealing with a bit of writer's block. that'll probably be evident in this chapter too, it's kinda klunky haha. i'm pretty sure the lack of socialization is starting to get to me
> 
> plus, my city had a tornado touch down near us this week too, so... that didn't help, really? mentally i was a little frazzled all-around; not so much anymore, but still. i'll try to get back into the swing of things but it's kind of hard when nothing seems normal right now
> 
> on a lighter note this chapter's kind of full of TOP references so? and you should check out their new song Level of Concern, it's made me feel a bit better with everything that's been going on, and it's super catchy and groovy in general. hopefully it'll help some of you out too if you need it. 
> 
> honestly if you haven't heard _any_ of these songs yet, go listen, i'm totally sponsoring. 
> 
> anyway, hope everyone's doing okay, despite everything. the important thing is to be safe and healthy. so seriously, stay home. love ya <3

You’re not like the other humans that came before you. That much, Sans knows for certain. Exactly _how_, is another topic altogether, really.

Still, Sans tries to get it out of you, in subtle ways; he quickly figures out not to bring up the question of why you came to the mountain in the first place. Despite the seamless way you dodged that, it seemed to bother you. (He wonders if it still does.)

You also don’t like being asked about your life above the surface. So he stays away from that too, for the most part—mostly so as not to upset you and upset Papyrus in upsetting you. But you’re nice enough about it, which is better than he expected.

(Maybe too nice?)

You don’t appear to mind how rude he’s being (because he knows he is), other than a sort of annoyance about being bothered in general. If you truly are, you don’t show it. It makes him wonder if you’re used to rude people. Or you’re just good at hiding things. Perhaps... Both.

And, either considering or disregarding your silence, it does beg the question:

Why _did_ you climb the mountain?

* * *

It's been a few days since you first came to stay with Sans and Papyrus, and things are relatively good, everything considered; the brothers have given you an old mattress from their closet to sleep on rather than the couch, so your living arrangements will be better there. You did ask about it (why would they have three mattresses if there’s only two of them?) and the response you got in return was... Less than informational. Not to mention, bizarre. (Sans looked very troubled about something.) So you didn’t ask again.

Papyrus _had_ seemed somewhat quieter than usual during breakfast, but you didn’t think too much of it, even when you caught him glancing out the window from time to time, as though looking for something. He left early to go to train with “Undyne,” whoever that was, so now you’re watching a kids’ movie (which you recognized) with Sans.

It’s brought up pretty casually, from a question you have, at first. You ask where they’d gotten the movie, since it’s from the surface; he says they got it from the “garbage dump” and after asking some more about it, you mention maybe going there some time, and showing them all the movies and media you personally know.

“There might even be some music someone threw away,” you suggest, flippantly.

“heh, maybe. undyne did find a piano once, so maybe stuff like that.” He glances at you. “what kinda music do you like, anyway?”

“Uh, well...” You stare at the screen contemplatively, as the main character in the movie rides off on his Pegasus into the sunset. “Rock, I guess. Stuff with guitars? But I like specific bands, really.” You laugh a bit. “Humans usually call them ‘emo’ bands; they sing about really sad things sometimes.”

You feel his gaze bore into you, but you pretend not to notice. “which one’s your favorite?”

Oh, that’s easy. “Well, there’s, um, one... They’re called Twenty One Pilots? I don’t know if any of their music is down here, they’re kinda modern, so I don’t think people would throw it away as often, right?”

“eh, probably.” He seems to gauge your expression, as though trying to read you.

You feel uncomfortable, so you decide to break the awkward silence and speak once more.

“Yeah, there’s, uh, other bands I like, but... I kinda stick with them a lot. Have some sort of personal attachment, I guess.”

He nods, as though understanding. “nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Really?” you kind of laugh, almost nervously. “Most of my friends say that’s...” You stop yourself in the middle of the sentence, trailing off.

Crap, you shouldn’t have said that.

Sans glances at you, curiosity in his eye-sockets, much to your chagrin. “what?”

“...Nothing.”

You lean back on the couch, tugging your legs closer to you almost automatically. You think he’ll ask again, but... You don’t hear him say anything for the rest of the movie.

There’s just silence.

* * *

It’s been a good day or two; maybe three, for all he knows. He doesn’t really keep track of time as well as he used to.

He’s mostly spent his time in Waterfall, observing everyone from a distance, after seeing the inn keeper. He gave the key back, seeing as he doesn’t really need it anymore, and it’s doubtful you’d come back to in the inn.

He scoffs at the thought; of _course_ you’d go live with those skeletons. Ugh, humans are so predictable. _You’re_ so predictable. He’s not surprised you bailed out on him. I mean, why _wouldn’t_ you? Why should he care? He can track you down anyway. He can...

...

He frowns.

Why didn’t he just kill you?

The soft thud of footsteps interrupts him, as he hears the call of a familiar voice. Rolling his eyes, he disappears under the marsh, only to reappear in front of the empty sentry station by the river leading into Snowdin. “What do you want?” he spits out immediately, glaring at the skeleton in front of him.

Papyrus’s gaze doesn’t falter as he tells him levelly, “FLOWERY—”

“It’s _Flowey_, you numskull!”

“—FLOWEY, WE NEED TO TALK.”

The flower scoffs, a bit childishly, turning his gaze away. “I don’t see _why_. I didn’t _ask_ for you to come here or anything.”

Papyrus sighs, and Flowey notes the seriousness in his tone. “THAT’S NOT THE POINT, AND YOU KNOW THAT. YOU KNOW WHY I’M HERE.”

“Do I?” he quips, just because he can. The skeleton doesn’t budge.

“WHAT HAPPENED WITH HUMAN IVY?”

Flowey scoffs, yet again, grumbling, “I knocked some sense into her, that’s all.”

...That... Sounded better in his head. Now it just seems like he _attacked_ you, and _that’s_...

Not any worse?

Not really.

Papyrus’s sockets narrow ever so slightly. “WHAT KIND OF SENSE DO YOU MEAN?”

“I didn’t _hurt_ her, if that’s what you’re thinking!” Did he? “I just...” He pauses, scowling, staring at the blue grass in front of him. “...I gave her her phone back.”

“...YOU TOOK HER PHONE?”

He almost laughs at the amount of confusion in his voice. “Well, not _just_ that,” he snorts.

“THEN WHAT DID YOU DO?”

Ugh. Why can’t this guy just mind his own business for _once_?! “Why does it matter?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO ANYTHING BAD,” he points out, a bit impatiently. Flowey merely rolls his eyes.

“You’re not my mother.”

“BUT I _AM_ YOUR FRIEND.”

“So?”

Papyrus sighs again, looking almost frustrated. “STOP DODGING THE QUESTION, FLOWEY.”

“Dodging what?” he sneers.

“_FLOWEY_.”

“Fine, FINE! I threatened her, happy?” He rolls his eyes once more, “It’s not like I wasn’t going to kill her anyways.”

Flowey avoids looking at him. “_WHAT_?! I TOLD YOU—”

“Don’t kill anyone, yeah, yeah,” he mocks, “but I had other plans, y’know.”

“NO, YOU _PROMISED_ YOU WEREN’T GOING TO DO ANYTHING ANYMORE!”

...Did he?

He hesitates. “I didn’t promise anything.”

“_YES_,” Papyrus says firmly, “YOU _DID_. WHEN FRISK LEFT YOU PROMISED YOU’D STOP THIS BEHAVIOR. DO YOU NOT REMEMBER THAT?”

Flowey pauses, for a good five seconds, contemplating this.

“...I lied,” he says. More to himself, rather than Papyrus.

Then he disappears back into the ground, out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think promises are very important to monsters, especially based on the game; keeping a promise to someone symbolizes a certain kind of trust between both the one that makes the promise and the one that asks the promise be kept. A lot of humans don't have that sort of trust; they break their promises constantly because of it.
> 
> It's ten times worse when a monster breaks a promise, because a lot of their being revolves around trusting other people; if they can't do something as simple as keep a promise, or be able to trust someone with their own, they lose a lot of their hope. If enough hope is lost, of course, they eventually fall down. Similarly if a monster can't make a promise, it demonstrates that they might not be trustworthy, and chances are they'll be looked down upon for it. Since monsters are usually honest creatures, it's believed that keeping promises isn't much of a problem for them. Unfortunately, that also proves to be an issue at the same time, as they could also break a promise for the sake of telling the truth. Then again, this is all based on certain circumstances, like how close the two monsters are, or what is in an _individual_ monster's nature. It's pretty complicated haha. 
> 
> Flowey's ending line about how he "lied" can be taken two different ways, really: the most obvious being that he lied about keeping Papyrus's promise. but technically speaking, he actually _didn't_ break the promise, as in, he hasn't really hurt anyone since Frisk left. in the beginning he _was_ intending to kill again, but he never actually did, for... reasons. he's more so just admitting to his less-than-pure intentions back then, regardless of what he actually did afterwards
> 
> as for the other way it could be taken, he's referring to the fight with Reader :)


End file.
